


Don't Hop Away From Me

by orphan_account



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Birthday Party Place, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Except Seungmin and Jeongin, Fluff, Happy Ending, He wears a pink bunny costume, M/M, Minho has a job, Minho is best friends with Jisung and Felix, They're all the same age
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-09-18 23:54:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20321617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kids. A bloodthirsty (future) chef. An annoying kangaroo. And an asshole boss who he was pretty sure was doing illegal shit. This was the dream job.Welcome to Seoul's Party Palooza, the most fun place in Seoul.





	1. Now Hiring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Kat for helping me come up with this.

It all started with that rerun of an international dance show on television when Minho was younger. He couldn't recall the exact age, but he will never forget that moment. 

His innocent, little eyes sparkled at the flashy movements in their glimmering outfits. His pupils fixated back and forth and across the screen, mouth gaping in awe at the intricate footwork and elegant hand gestures. The dancers specializing in ballet twirled in the air and landed on their feet with one big finish, curling one arm high to the sky and the other tightly pressed to their backs. The synchronization was incredible. It was a true sight to see. The audience roared in appraisal, enthusiastic whistles and shouts of a much needed encore easily shooting through the stage. 

And yet, the judges were not pleased. As if on cue, the noise diffused into an abrupt and uncomfortable quiet with one critic's raised hand.

"A sloppy technique will only take you so far. Terrible posture, lagging footwork," a stern voice snapped. 

A feminine voice chimed in, almost sheepishly, "Your uneven breathing prevents you from performing a proper Pirouette. How am I supposed to evaluate this with so many flaws?" Her remarks were equally venomous.

"Even the Grande Jeté needs improvement." The judges hummed and nodded in agreement towards one another, no longer throwing out their comments. It was no secret these prideful judges carried an awfully arrogant air with them. Their decades of experience was well-respected in the dance world. This was an art to them, and they had more than their fair share of hardship as well. It was decided. They simultaneously pressed down on their intimidating buzzers, producing an obnoxiously jarring sound. "Team 47, I am afraid you are eliminated."

Minho, no more than nine years old, booed loudly at his tv screen on reflex. He realized his mistake too late, though. Soon enough, his parents' door could be heard creaking open, with a hallway light flicking on right after. He hurriedly turned off the television with his nearby remote and ducked under his Spiderman bed covers. Hopefully his dark room would make it seem like he was sleeping.

He was wrong.

His door slowly opened. "Minho, I know you're awake. It's two in the morning! You have school tomorrow," a disgruntled voice told him.

He uncovered the sheets off his head. "But mom! The dancers! They were so good. I think they should have won! I want to dance like them! I want to dance! I wanna take dancing classes like my friend, Felix."

His mom didn't say anything at first. "Minho, we don't have enough money to take you to dancing lessons."

"But mom!"

"Later. Maybe next year. If you still want to do it, then we'll take you."

Minho gasped excitedly. "Really? You promise?"

"Yes, now go to sleep. Good night."

"Okay, I'll wait. Good night!"

But later never came. Minho was now in his last year of high school and all the opportunities had slipped through his fingers. His friends, Hyunjin and Felix, could afford to pay for their weekend dancing classes. They went to that class every weekend with an experienced instructor and decent studio through their part-time jobs waiting tables. Originally, coming into high school their first year, Felix and Minho promised to join the school's dancing club together. Unfortunately, it was short on people and was forced to shut down that same year. They tried to revive it on multiple occasions but failed every time. That was actually how they found Hyunjin, through Minho's desperate recruitment and empty promises to buy him food (he was still broke). Even with Hyunjin's passion for dance, it wasn't enough to fulfill the required minimum seven people to officially start up a club. 

And then, that's when Jisung suggested applying for that sketchy job advertisement he found on the sidewalk near one of Seoul's biggest plazas. Apparently, a new place was opening up. It catered to children's birthday parties, and they needed someone to fulfill the role of mascot. It didn't sound too bad. Minho liked kids. At least, it was possible he did? He could entertain kids, right? He was an only child. How could he possibly know if he was good with kids? But he had to try. This may very well be his last chance.

It was worth a shot. But then.

"What the hell is this?" Minho pointed at the worn-out, furry body suit laid out in his work's locker room for employees. It looked like an old, dried up pink marshmallow and suspiciously in the need of a wash. Probably smelled weird, too.

His blunt boss came up from behind in the hallway, standing by the doorway leading to the locker room. "That's your uniform."

"I can see that. But why is it in this condition?"

The boss took a closer look before clasping his hands together, as if he suddenly remembered something important. "Oh! That's right! One of my old friends from back in the day has this kid about your age. Supposedly he used it for a school play on a rainy day. The rest is history." He cleared his throat. "But, you have experience with this, right Minho?"

"Yeah, totally." He lied. He might have overexaggerated just a bit on his online job application. And in the interview. They were only offering one position for mascot, so he had to take it. He would have to deal with the guilt and consequences later.

"Great! You're in charge of keeping your uniform clean. I need it washed by tomorrow for opening day." His boss patted him on his back. "Thanks," he said before leaving Minho alone in the room.

And now he was dealing with the consequences. He kicked the floor. "You piece of sh-"

The next day came sooner than expected. "Hey kids! Welcome to Seoul's Party Palooza!" 

The children stared at him in his costume, starstruck. "Wow! A bunny! He's so cute," one of them yelled out.

"I wanna play air hockey with him!" Another shouted.

"Yes! I will beat all of you in air hockey, but first you have to remember," he bent his legs together while hopping and embarrassingly singing out, "we're. in. the. most. fun. place. in. Seoul." This was his boss's way of spreading the word of their grand opening. Honestly, he felt like his soul left his body when he did this.

They all jumped up and down with him while pulling his uniform along in various directions and shrieking in high-pitched elation as if they found the biggest toy to play with, piercing his eardrum. 

Suddenly, the pay didn't seem worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The costume for Minho looks something like [this](https://i.imgur.com/MIoMkEV.png). It's a rough indication and not exact in my head, so feel free to imagine it how you like. Apply this to Chapter 3 as well.


	2. Little Demons

Felix looked at his friend dead in the eyes while continuing his even pace. "I'm being serious. His chin was this pointy. I know what I saw." He kept emphasizing the sharp jawline with his hands a little too closely to Jisung's face. "Like this! He could probably cut open a watermelon in one slice with that chin! I'm willing to bet money on it."

Slapping the taller boy's arms away, Jisung wasn't totally convinced. "A pizza? You expect me to think there's a walking pizza in the school? I'm not as gullible as before when you said the school had a talking llama."

"You don't understand. Not just any pizza. He's a human sword. A human sword pizza," Felix shook his head, eyes growing in amazement. "You have to trust me on this one."

Jisung blew a single, long strand of his blond hair away from his face. "I'll believe it when bears start flying." 

"Wait, that can actually be arranged. I know a guy who knows a guy that works at a zoo," the deep-voiced teen giddily unlocked his phone. "Hold up. Maybe I still have his number saved."

"I'm not even gonna ask, Lix."

Felix pouted before putting it away. "Fair enough." They arrived to their science classroom, followed up by Felix opening the door. "But I can't believe you actually dyed your hair on a whim last night. Again."

Jisung only shrugged. "I mean technically the rules do say you're allowed to as long it's a natural hair color." 

Just as the two boys entered inside, they both stopped right in their tracks. Something was off about this scene, and it was right in front of them. Just in case, they took a glance at each other, making sure they were seeing the same thing. 

"Minho?" Felix worriedly said.

Last year, the three musketeers only had two classes together. The year before that was the same. This time was different. For the most part, their schedules matched up. Luckily enough, they managed to get this same class so early in the morning. They practically begged their lab instructor to let them partner up as a trio during lab experiments for the remainder of the year. Usually, one of them was here first, which was still the case today. They would often get met with a warm greeting or smart remark from one another, then proceed to goof off for a couple minutes before the instruction began. But that was not the case today. Minho, his poor soul, was sitting on a stool and resting his head faced down on the high lab station table. 

Jisung ran to him in a dramatic fashion, "Are you okay? Speak to me!"

"So many," Minho's voice drifted off, refusing to sit up and even notice the other two's presence.

"What? What did they do to you?" Jisung grabbed Minho by the shoulders and started violently shaking him and yelling, "What did those monsters do to my best friend!"

"Hey, I'm right here," Felix whined.

Jisung shook Minho harder, causing his head to bob up and down. "What did those little demons do to my other best friend?" he corrected. Figuring that was enough, he let go, only to watch Minho's lifeless body slam back down onto the workstation table. 

The lifeless person before their eyes muttered out a slight, "Ow."

Jisung winced and stepped back a bit, "Sorry."

Felix frowned and gently started to rub his back to comfort him. "Minho, are you okay? You look dead. Was it that bad?" he asked.

Minho rose his head up very minimally, fixing his hair that Jisung just messed up. "Little kids are so scary, you know?"

Felix couldn't help but snort, "Scary? Are you sure? It was just a birthday party, Minho."

"The little girl with the flower in her hair." Minho's eyes widened. "She knew so many curse words. So many. And the boy with the spiky hair. How was he so good at air hockey?" He looked up at his two friends, outwardly defeated. "I felt bad that all the kids wanted to play against me, so I paid for all the air hockey games. With my pocket change. All of the games."

"You did what?" Jisung turned his head a bit, doubtful.

"Don't tell me you're more broke than before," Felix scolded, "you were supposed to save up for the dancing, Min! You promised you'd be able to."

"I know, I know." His forehead met the table again with a loud thump, then he groaned miserably. "I'll just have to work more."

"Maybe ask for more shifts?" A concerned Jisung suggested. "What's the worst that could happen? Sure, it's possible your boss may say no. And sure, it's possible he could fire you, but still." He gave him a heartfelt back hug. "I think you should still try."

Felix cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I don't think so," he said while avoiding eye contact from the other two. "I don't think that's a good idea."

The other two turned around fully to look at him. The momentary silence immediately broke once they simultaneously spoke out a skeptical, "Why?"

"Well, if it's anything like my job waiting tables, your boss probably wouldn't be so lenient towards you. He just hired you and all, and you're already demanding more work hours?"

Minho sat there, pondering the thought. "That's true," he uttered, with the a slight hoarseness to his voice.

"I mean I'm just thinking worst-case scenario here. But if anything happens I can always help you look for a new job. It's no problem, Minnie."

"If he says no I'll punch him. I swear I'll do it, Minho. Just say the word," Jisung confidently boasted.

Minho shook his head, laughing. "Thanks. But I need to keep this job. My parents kind of," he hesitated for a split second, "they kind of don't know I'm working."

"What!" the other two shouted. 

"I may have, perhaps, told them I joined a club. They think that's what I'm doing after school from 5pm to 7pm." He sighed. "You both know how my parents are. They don't want me to work so soon. They want me to live my best life while I'm young. Not to worry about money problems, blah blah. You know how the story goes." He added, "I need this job because it's easier and closer to school and home. And plus the job isn't so bad."

"What was that last part?" Felix urged.

"Nothing," he nearly whispered, his tone growing quieter.

"No, no. I think you said you like your job. As in, you like everything about it? Even the costume?" he urged further.

Minho diverted his eyes. "I didn't say that."

Jisung hugged him tighter. "Yeah, you didn't deny it either. The pink bunny costume that gave you a headache as you cleaned it and scrubbed it to the bone two days ago. And went on and on about it for hours on the phone to us. You're not getting out of this one." 

"No idea what you're talking about," Minho's stubborness effortlessly shined now. He was going to fight tooth and nail on this.

"Admit it or I'll tickle you."

Minho looked at Jisung with fear in his eyes, the horror intensifying. "You wouldn't dare."

Jisung did not waver in his determination. "Try me. I have you trapped here, and Lix is my accomplice." He looked around suspiciously. "And no one is here yet. There are no witnesses, so you can't call for help."

Minho glared at Jisung and then to Felix and then back to Jisung and then back to Felix. "Who are the real little demons, I wonder."

They smiled devilishly in return, their angelic outer appearances being a clear deception.

"Okay, okay. You win. I admit it."

Felix opened his mouth in astonishment, "Wow, I can't believe you actually admitted to liking something other than dancing. Usually, you hate all the other sports or aren't good at them. But a bunny costume, who would have thought? The world is clearly coming to an end."

"Maybe so. Don't knock it until you try it." Minho now turned to Jisung, eyeing his scalp in great detail. "And Sungie, since when did you dye your hair?"

Jisung stared and laughed, not even surprised, "You barely noticed?"


	3. Hell's Assistant and Hell's Pet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woojin is a kind person, I swear.

A mostly uneventful day, excluding the dangerous lab liquid that Minho almost spilled onto Jisung and the interesting dance conversation he had with Felix and the others at lunch. There was also an exam next week he had to study for that he mentally took note of. But those were small details he should remember another time. Currently, he had to get ready to clock in, and he couldn't help but remember other things.

Aside from the actual birthday party, Minho could remember his first day of work very well. He could even remember the bits of his job interview and brief conversations with his boss the day before. Then again, the first day was literally yesterday.

Once it was confirmed that he was hired, the top dog made sure to give him a tour around. Not that Minho had much of a say in that matter, but a new employee not knowing their own way around would surely be embarrassing in the long run. The locker room was one of the first places. Yes, he definitely remembered that part. His first encounter with the horrid uniform he would later have to wash up.

The imagery of the pink sludge washing off was still perfectly embedded into his brain. It was also his first time noticing that his boss had a punchable face, something else he mentally took note of.

There was a first time for everything.

As the locker room was situated somewhere in the back of Seoul's Party Palooza, it connected to a long hallway that led up to multiple rooms, one of them being bigger in comparison: the kitchen. He remembered to greet every single co-worker before opening day, memorizing their names to a face. After all, he needed to make a good impression if he wanted to stick around, and getting along with others wouldn't be so bad. 

Within a few minutes, he quickly learned the staff were all nice in the end, voluntarily introducing themselves and welcoming him warmly. He was worried for nothing.

Minho was pretty sure he remembered all of them. At least, he thought he did. Not until he passed through the swinging doors of Hell's Kitchen and saw a new face skillfully chopping up lettuce with a rather sharp cutting utensil. The leafy greens were sliced and shredded into twos and then fourths and then sixteenths in the blink of an eye. He definitely would have remembered that.

With one foot in the kitchen and his left hand still partly on the door, Minho became rigid. "Who are you?" His voice came off a little timid. It also sounded slightly disrespectful. Slightly accusing. Of something. Such as, perhaps, what else does this person know what to do with a kitchen knife?

The more intimidating male behind the kitchen counter looked up from his food preparations, his eyes a a chestnut brown and large hands still holding the weapon. His physique completely towered over Minho's in comparison. The man equipping the blade suddenly flashed a teethy grin, with his jet-black hair bouncing under a tightly-held hairnet at the slightest head movement. "Oh, hi! I'm Woojin!" There was something about the way he said it that gave off an innocent energy, if that was even possible.

The anxiety expressed itself clearly on Minho's face. "Hey, Woojin. I'm Minho. Can you put that down, please?"

Woojin kept his beaming smile, still holding the knife in place. It was facing forward. Not necessarily on purpose. "What do you mean?"

Minho stiffly pointed at the shiny tool in his Woojin's right hand.

"Oh! Sorry!" Woojin quickly put it down on the cutting board next to the lettuce. "That was rude of me. I just get so into it sometimes."

Minho's life flashed before his eyes. Get into it? Get into what? He didn't think he'd have to prioritize a self-defense class over a dance one. There was something triggering his flight or fight response. All he wanted to do was say a quick hello then get changed into uniform. "Oh? I see."

Woojin emitted a passionate aura, continuing his train of thought, "I just love cooking. I'm aiming to be a chef after I graduate."

Oh, that's right. This wasn't some horror korean prank show with hidden cameras. Minho took a glance at the corners of the walls, just in case. He was met with some relief. Oddly enough, but maybe not that odd, he found himself relating to Woojin a bit considering his own hobby on the side.

"It's my first day here, but it's nice to meet you!" Woojin declared.

It took a minute for Minho to register what was fully said. "Wait a second. After you graduate? As in, you're a student?"

"Yes, I'm just a part-timer here. I have to focus on the studies and all." He went back to chopping up what was left: lettuce, onions, some colored peppers here and there. The stove behind Woojin seemed to be cooking up a storm in a tall pot.

As the liquid kept on boiling, the aroma whirled around the kitchen, presenting itself in front of Minho for the first time. He breathed in slowly, closing his eyes and allowing himself to sink deeply into it all, warmth coursing through him. Judging by the smell, "Soup?" Minho guessed.

Woojin nodded. "The appetizer for the adults in the reserved party today. I hope they'll like it."

If he wasn't caught up by this person's master-class cutting technique earlier, he probably would have noticed it sooner. "It smells great," Minho admitted.

Woojin visibly got excited at the compliment, although he tried not to make it too obvious. "Thank you."

He isn't so scary after all, he thought. "I was expecting the chef to come in today. But I guess she and the others aren't here? The party starts pretty soon."

"The assistant chefs? I work under them, but they're running a bit late. I'm just prepping the starting dishes for now. Apparently the parents asked for some crazy buffet, but the birthday girl wanted a simple pizza party. They compromised and got both. But hey, I get paid by the hour, so I shouldn't be complaining." He tossed in a pinch of salt into the monstrous stewpot. "I'm not too crazy about the wide selection of dishes. But you know what our motto is."

"The. Most. Fun. Place. In. Seoul," they both mocked in unison, a small chuckle escaping both of their mouths.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one that hates it, too." Minho laughed a bit harder, their little inside joke expressing their dislike for cringy shticks.

Minho wanted to doubt it, honestly. If Woojin was still a student, then what were the odds that they went to the same school? Seoul was a big place, but Minho couldn't help but want to know the answer. "One last thing. You wouldn't happen to attend the school a couple blocks down, would you?" He decided to take a leap of faith. A shot in the dark. Maybe they could become friends after his shift was over.

He was going to regret asking that later.

Woojin did not look up this time, the slight contentment on his face fading. He turned around, his back towards Minho, turning on some switches of kitchen equipment, setting up the appropriate temperature on other stoves for a good couple seconds, keeping himself busy before he finally spoke. "As a matter of fact, I do. I've actually seen you around with other people. Hyunjin, Jisung and Felix, I believe?" His expression had morphed into something else. Woojin's face became more serious, as if he had unintentionally dropped a mask he could no longer hold up.

Minho rose his eyebrows in surprise. "You know about me? About my friends, too? I don't think we've met, though. Have we?"

"I heard some things about you and those three. Quite a bit of things." He slid the small pile of chopped lettuce off the cutting board and into the pot, rephrasing his words, "A lot of things, actually." Gently putting the board down, Woojin pursed his lips together. He seemed to want to say something. "I'll be blunt. My initial impression of you wasn't all that good." It was only now that the two in the room made direct eye contact.

Well, that's an odd thing to say out of no where to a stranger you just met. "Excuse me?" Minho was stunned. "What did I do?"

The other just sighed, continuing his work, turning his back on him once again. "Don't worry. I don't personally have anything against you. I guess."

Suddenly the casual knife pointing earlier made total sense. Minho found it hard to believe that Woojin didn't have something against him. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Your knife earlier had something against me. Unless I'm wrong there?"

Woojin shook his head in response. "It's a misunderstanding. I was just shocked to see that you work here is all."

"Listen, if I did something wrong, please tell me. I want to know. Whatever I did. I'm sorry. I don't know what I-"

He shook his head again, maybe harder this time, more firm. "You're lying." There was a slight disappointment in Woojin's eyes.

"Lying? But how am I supposed to know if you won't tell me-"

Just then, an assistant chef came up from behind the swinging door. "Sorry Woojin! I had to pick up my daughter from a terrible fever. Hopefully you held up okay."

"Good evening, sir. I've prepped up the rest of the equipment. It should be warm now," he said with a smile. Woojin had completely changed his tune, seemingly going into work mode, giving out a status report. It was like the opportunity window to ask him anything else was permanently closed.

The assistant chef glanced down, now noticing Minho. "Oh, hey Minho! Good luck on work today!"

Was someone starting rumors about him at school? Not only him, but his entire group as well? What did he mean? What was going on?

Minho snapped out of it, nodding, before getting out of the way of the door, "Ah yes, you too. Sorry." He felt a little awkward, wanting to say something to Woojin but not in front of a fellow co-worker. "I should get going," he said while taking a step forward into the hall. "Good luck."

"Good luck!" Woojin yelled out.

What the hell?

Anxiety formed in the pit of his stomach, his chest tightening. This was making him sick. Something was happening right underneath his nose, and he didn't have a dang clue. He didn't see it before, but now that it was brought up to his attention, he couldn't unsee it. There was no way to unsee it. He was forced to see it.

Minho struggled the rest of the way down the hall, balancing himself upright with one hand on the wall. So many thoughts were going through his head at that moment.

He stood in front of the door to the locker room, zoning out, not seeing what was happening right in front of him.

The knob turned from the inside, followed by the door opening widely. A figure stood before him.

Minho's heart was racing, his mind kept thinking back to what Woojin was saying, completely oblivious to his current surroundings.

That is, until he was knocked backward on the hallway floor, head being bumped against something the second before and landing on his butt in a daze.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!"

Minho groaned, rubbing the spot on his forehead that was just hit, now looking completely in front of him. This person in front of him was also on his butt, presumably landing just as badly. This person had a big head. Or at least, the costume of a big head.

Brown. With a pouch on its stomach. And fur. Was that fur?

It was a kangaroo body suit.

Minho looked into the eyes sewed onto the kangaroo costume. They were dark and lifeless. The voice under the costume called out to him again. "Hey!"

Still on the floor, Minho looked in confusion. "Hey?"

The kangaroo clicked its tongue negatively. Then, with both of its big paws, it lifted its own head in an upward motion, removing it.

Minho gasped. "Decapitation."

What was revealed was a paler male with dark-silver hair, fixating his real eyes on Minho. "De-what?"

Minho gasped again, this time for dramatic effect. "It speaks." He was trying not to laugh at his own joke.

The boy narrowed his eyes. "Oh, it's you."

What? Had Minho met this person before, too? He had no memory. "Do I know you?"

"No." The other spoke again. "But more importantly, it's hard to see out of that thing. That doesn't mean you can block the doorway."

"Oh, sorry about that." Minho began picking himself up.

The silver-haired male extended his paw out. "Help me up, please."

"Wow. You decapitated your own head. I didn't think you'd be able to speak. But now you're demanding, too?"

"Decapitated? What are you going on about? Are you okay?"

"No," Minho confessed. "I'm having a dramatic crisis and drowning it with dark humor. Will you hear my story, kangaroo?" he said level-headedly.

The other rolled his eyes. "Please put your crisis aside for now. This thing weighs a ton. I literally cannot get up." He struggled a bit, failing.

Minho grabbed him by the paw. He was about to help him up, but then stopped. "What do I get in return?" he said with no remorse. "If I recall, you also bumped into me and didn't apologize."

The other was getting irritated. "Hurry up, Min-" The kangaroo man stopped talking.

His eyes widened at that. "Minho? You know my name?" He shook his head in disbelief. What a day. What a damn day. "So it's true, then. People are talking about me. Let me guess, you go to my school, too?"

The kangaroo did not respond.

"Do you talk about me? At school? Behind my back? You and that person. Woojin? And now you both conveniently work at the same place I do? What even is your name?"

"Sometimes. Yes. Technically yes," the male on the floor answered the first three questions. "I work here now. And so does Woojin. We're buds."

"You work here? As what?"

He gestured to the entirety of his uniform. "Isn't it obvious? I'm the mascot."

Minho blinked, taking in what he just said. "Mascot? That can't be right, because I'm the mascot."

The boy smirked. "The boss didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" his question had a slight bite to it. He was gripping the boy's paw harder now.

"I'm your new co-worker. Your best friend to your bunny, the kangaroo." His smile grew, seemingly taking a jab at Minho, as his dimples portrayed how much he was enjoying this moment. Particularly, the moment of Minho's dwindling boldness.

"My what?"

"Yes, your best friend. But that also means you will start getting paid less in order to compensate for the new mascot employee. I hope you don't mind."

Minho's soul left his body. He released his grip completely, letting the other in the suit fall completely backwards on his back.

"Ow." He rubbed the back of his head. "Hey, that wasn't very friendly of you, best friend."

"Your name," Minho demanded.

"My name?"

"If you want me to help you up, tell me your name." His eyes were dead serious. "Now."

The kangaroo-human lying helplessly on the floor didn't really have an option. "Chan," he muttered. "It's Chan."

"Bye, Chan." Minho got up and left the room, closing the door behind, leaving Chan there on the floor with no way to get up.

"So you're just gonna leave me here?" He flailed his arms left and right. "Help me up!"

Minho was long gone. He was marching down furiously, heading for his boss's office room at the end of the hallway with a burning fire in his eyes. It was one thing to be dealing with rumors and people that hated his guts. But now his paycheck was being taken away?

He needed answers. And he needed them right away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look it's [Chan](https://i.imgur.com/MFwO6je.jpg)! :D


	4. And the Ugly Truth Dawned on Me

𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬.

Minho's boss, the one with the punchable face, was sitting back comfortably in his leather chair. It was neatly arranged in his office room, right under his finely-made wooden desk. He clicked away on his mouse, too caught up with the numbers on the computer. The place was lit up by a lamp that stood on a small table along the wall, right next to the finely-made wooden door that complimented his finely-made wooden set.

All was peaceful, and it was a great way to end the day. At least, until it was disturbed by an abrupt, loud person.

Minho fully swung his boss's door right open, slamming it against the leg of the table. The lamp swayed forward, almost tipping over, then proceeded to wobble in place a bit before coming to a standstill. Minho side-eyed it. It was the last thing on his mind right now, so he ignored it. He walked in, seemingly choking the atmosphere with his presence. "We need to talk." 

The other, however, didn't bother looking up from the screen. 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬. "Yes, hello."

Minho grit his teeth. "I said we need to talk."

𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬. This was followed by a moment of silence. His boss was either really busy or just wasn't giving him the time of day. 𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬.

"Preferably before I start making a scene when the birthday party begins in ten minutes," Minho chimed in more firmly this time.

"Oh, yes." He looked up for a brief second, without much care in his eyes. "Mango was it?" Just as rudely, he looked back down to his screen.

Was his boss pissing him off on purpose? He didn't even like mangoes. If he wanted to get technical about it, mangoes weren't too bad, but it's not like he was crazy about them. He preferred something more like strawberries. That wasn't the point, though. "It's Minho," he calmly answered while trying not to snap, "Lee Minho."

"I know, Mingo. I was just testing you." 𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬. "Do come in."

Okay now Minho knew he was doing this on purpose. What a guy. "I'm already in." Minho emphasized this by lightly tapping his foot against his boss's wooden desk, making it very obvious he was right in front of him. Not that it got much reaction out of him. Minho could see his boss scrolling down a list of something through the reflection of his glasses bouncing off the computer.

"Ah, then what seems to be the problem?" 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬.

"It was brought up to my attention that I will get a reduction in pay?" he questioned nicely, just to confirm if this was the truth or not. Maybe it was all just a big misunderstanding. Yeah, that was probably what it was. Right? But something deep down was telling him otherwise. If it turned out to be false, then he would look like a fool on his second day of work. But if it was true, which the ever so pleasant kangaroo insisted it was, then...

His boss gave a heavy sigh, as if this was the biggest waste of time he had to encounter today. He rose a hand slowly to remove his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You are truly full of it, aren't you?"

Minho's heart dropped, his eyes widening at the increasing anxiety. "What?"

"I take it you met the new employee. That's good," he sighed out. "This means you two can work together to make this an enjoyable experience for all the kids."

Minho was taken a little aback by his statements. It was confusing, but the answer was in the details. He could only find the energy to mumble under his breath, "You aren't denying it."

"You get what you earn, Mr. Lee Minho," his boss stated dryly.

With a clenched fist, he blurted out, "We both know you can manage to pay for two new employees! And part timers at that! This place is booked with reservations from opening to closing. The mascot only appears for a couple hours a day. Don't give me that excuse! You are just a leech looking out for his own wallet!" He wasn't gonna sit by and watch someone take advantage of him.

His boss looked him dead in the eye, shooting right through him, and for a moment it sent a chill down Minho's spine. The truth rolled off of his tongue, in the slowest way possible, "And 𝘺𝘰𝘶 are just a leech that lied on his application."

Minho's face darkened considerably as he read the words right off the other's lips. For what felt like several seconds, it replayed in his mind over and over. But how did he know? The world felt like it stopped in time, with an overbearing deafness weighing down on him. His boss kept talking, but Minho couldn't hear anything. Even if he tried, it just seemed like his ears weren't cooperating. The person sitting in front of him glared down at him, making Minho feel small. He wanted to say something, anything, but his body was working against him.

"You didn't think you could hide it forever, did you? An experienced employer can tell a fake application from a real one."

It took a split second for him to process, but the words finally caught up to Minho.

His boss grinned like a shark. "You need this job, don't you?"

Minho nodded. There was no sense in denying it. It was true, it was the best option he had. The only option he had. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't just quit. He needed this. Desperately. He could threaten to quit all he wanted, but the reality was someone could easily take his spot and probably do it better. What did he expect to achieve by coming in here anyway? The anger had been blinding him so much, he couldn't realize that he was fighting a losing battle from the start. It was bugging him, but how could his boss tell?

"Good. That's what I thought," he happily expressed. "Now, I suggest you clean up your attitude. Unless you want to get fired?"

Minho didn't know how to respond. Was this even legal? Could he tell someone? This job paid minimum wage as it was, even if he got a reduction in pay, then what? Even if he told someone, wouldn't he get replaced anyway if it was found out he wasn't qualified? "No, I don't." He didn't want to get fired. But still. How did his boss know? He lied enough to make it believable but was careful not to oversell anything. He and Jisung made sure of that.

His boss smiled again. It was becoming clear who had the power over who in this instant. This was like a game of chess, and Minho had fallen for the simplest trick in the book. Or rather, he volunteered to get trapped. Like a beast toying with its prey. Exploiting its weakness.

His boss spoke up, "Anything else?"

"You," Minho choked out the word. He swallowed to clear his throat, "You knew from the beginning, and yet you still hired me. Why?"

His boss only hummed in amusement.

He narrowed his eyes at him. "You intentionally hired me. Fully aware that I had no prior experience. All so you could hire two people to save a quick buck."

"You can always quit," his boss suggested, fully revealing that scummy grin. That scummy grin that Minho wanted to wipe off his face so bad with his fist. "But you won't."

That shut Minho up.


	5. Love Letter: Back to Basics

"𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘔𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘺. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸. 𝘛𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘛𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦, 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘹𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥.

𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘸𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥? 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦? 𝘈𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵? 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵? 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵? 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥.

𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺? 𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺? 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘛𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥."

It was funny how these words resurfaced. Now, of all times. After being dehumanized, no doubt, to a simple machine that would save a business some money. The senior high schooler was rooted down, standing in the hallway, with one hand on the locker room doorknob. His boss's words were replaying in his head. "I deserve it," Minho whispered. He needed to continue on with work, if he still wanted to get paid for what little it was worth. Although, it was rather difficult to shake off these unfortunate series of events. When it came to people, there were usually those that thought they knew you, like Woojin. There were also those that used you, like a certain employer. He opened the door.

An upset Chan was waiting for him, fully sat up now, panting and out of breath.

Minho closed the door behind. "See? You can get up by yourself. Why are you so dramatic?"

"It's heavier," he wheezed, "than it looks." Chan slowly started pushing himself off the ground, with his legs wobbling and almost losing his balance at the sheer weight of the kangaroo uniform. It was just too big.

Minho noticed, quickly catching him by his arm. "Woah there. Maybe I was wrong." He helped him stand just a bit.

"It's even harder when the weight of this shifts from one side to the other." He pulled away from Minho, grabbing his kangaroo head from the floor. "Thanks, for nothing." There was definitely some hostility there.

It would take more than little comments to get under Minho's skin. If that was Chan's goal, then he would make sure of ruining that. Minho had his work cut out for him with Woojin. And Mr. Bossman was a whole different beast. But this boy in front of him? What was his end game in all of this? "Why did you choose this job? Was it because it was close to the school?"

Chan glared at him, somewhat judgingly. "It's a little rude to be this nosy already, don't you think? I don't want you following me around." 

He narrowed his eyes. "Huh?" Minho was slightly offended. "I never said, what? Look, I was just asking a reasonable question. Sorry I asked." He made his way over to his locker, angrily taking out his mascot uniform. 

To the side of the room was a mirror on the wall, in which Chan was now dusting off dirt from his behind. "I take it you confirmed it with the boss?" the older one asked. It had been a couple minutes already since that fiasco of Minho getting caught lying on his job application.

He gritted his teeth. "Yes." 

"Are you upset?" Chan asked innocently. He was faking it, taking in the fact that he really was getting under Minho's skin now if he wasn't before. 

"Yes." He shut his locker, trying to calm his anger down.

"Do you want to talk about it? Please don't hesitate to do so." His words said one thing, but his tone indicated he didn't truly care. 

"No, thank you," Minho said bitterly. This wasn't going well. If it continued on longer, he'd probably have to strangle someone. Preferably someone in close proximity to him. You know, for convenience sake.

Chan unzipped the main part on his chest, revealing clothing underneath, in which he proceeded to rummage through his pant pocket. A few seconds later, he was now holding a small object, cylinder in shape. Was that chap stick? "Are you sure, Min? It might help." Still looking at himself in the mirror, he carefully applied it.

The younger rolled his eyes. This Chan dude was really prolonging this, wasn't he? Minho didn't want to play his little game. Instead, he grabbed his uniform, unzipping and stepping into it one leg at a time. "Don't ever call me that. We aren't close."

"If you say so." He smiled. "I'm glad we got that cleared." He made an annoyingly loud popping sound, indicating he was done with the chap stick.

Minho let out a long and frustrated breath, already aware of how splendid the birthday party is going to go. This little shi- Ahem. This co-worker was certainly going to make life hard around here. Part of the job was being able to spread good vibes so that everybody could have a great time, especially the kids. That was a big part of the job, actually. It was physically and emotionally demanding. Physically, because he had to run around and play with the children, not being able to say no to anything, or taking pictures with them at their parent's will. Admittedly, that wasn't too hard. The hard part was controlling your emotions. When put on, his face was technically completely covered by the suit's big head, hiding his expressions, but it was difficult to mask one's voice. The tone and volume could easily lead to misinterpretation. Communication was key. Both Chan and Minho knew this as the time grew shorter.

Chan finished zipping his suit, now looking at Minho. "You ready to go, best friend?" He extended his paw out for Minho, and his voice was a bit more cheerful than previously. His eyes still held some negativity, though. Luckily, that wasn't a big deal, as he could just hide it.

Minho looked at him, forcing a smile of his own. "Let's go."

The party was about to begin.


End file.
